Closer to Heaven
by TheResurrectionist
Summary: The beginning of angelic mikifer oneshots. Written on a public bus on a generation one iphone with a whole lotta love. Reviews are appreciated immensely. Titles taken from Pet Shop Boys songs. Do I have to beg for reviews? Yeah, probably. PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW I HAVE NO SELF ESTEEM AND PEOPLE ARE NICE WHEN THEY REVIEW. PLEASE REVIEW. There. That was good. CHAPTERS 5&6 ARE UP!
1. Closer to Heaven

"I'm sorry, sir, but we're closed." I said, hearing someone enter the shop. Looking up, my eyes caught two figures sitting down at the table near the window.

One was tall, muscled nicely with graceful, curved brown hair falling down to his collar. The other was shorter, but still muscular. His eyes were a piercing green, hair dark blonde and hands out in front of him. Ignoring me, they seemed to be arguing. God, two of the most gorgeous men I've ever seen, and they've only got eyes for each other. Of course.

"Sir?" I asked, trying to get their attention.

They continued to deny my presence, which really made no difference to me. Course not. Sure, go ahead and walk into a closed coffee shop and argue. Make my day.

I went back to wiping the tables, but my ears caught bits of their conversation.

"You know I can't do this," the shorter one said, voice elegant and sharp.

"I know you can't," said the taller one, voice deep and enthralling. "I'm not asking you this because I want you to. But we need to work together on this."

"Father won't be happy."

"He never is." Said the taller one, smiling. Oddly enough, he had dimples.

I could appreciate that. My father was never happy with whatever I did. That's how I needed up working through college, anyway.

They were quiet for a few seconds, beautiful faces tilted towards each other.

A low rumbling could be heard. The taller man turned, glaring out the window like a father ready to punish a petulant child.

"They're coming." He said, annoyed.

The shorter man nodded. "Shit. Alright. How long?"

"About a minute."

Wait, what? People were coming? What were they talking about?

"Sir, are more people coming? We're closed. I'm going to have to ask you to leave." I said.

The taller man turned a handsome face towards me, eyes calculating. "Michael, do you want to take care of the mortal or should I?"

I paled, backing up a foot or two. The look in his eyes was far more terrible than I'd thought someone should have. His power was infinite, and he knew it.

Michael raked his eyes over me quickly, eyes no less intimidating and just as powerful as the other man's. Whoever these men were, I knew one thing. They weren't normal.

"Leave her. I can construct a shield, but you'll need to keep it hidden. I assume you can do that, brother."

Brothers? Oh, lord.

The taller man nodded at Michael. "Any second now…"

Michael walked slowly up to me. "Listen to me," he said, green eyes glinting in the light.

"You need to stay right where you're standing. I'm going to construct a shield, and Sammael is going to hide you. But you need to stay still, or you're going to be killed. Understand?"

I nodded hurriedly, standing where he told me to. Placing a hand out, he chanted something in another language under his breath before running back to his brother, who was standing in the front of the store.

Lights began to shatter around them, illuminating their figures, tall and proud, next to each other.

They looked all powerful, completely ethereal.

Michael drew a sword from someplace hidden on his back. Sammael did the same, bringing around a huge sword that _glowed _slightly. I could almost see the shadows of wings on their backs, gold and silver pairs that made me tremble in awe.

I was still praying that maybe this was a bad dream. Or a weird LSD trip. I mean, what are the odds, right? Angels in a coffee shop?

All the windows in the front shattered as two figures appeared in front of the brothers.

I closed my eyes and prayed.


	2. Love is a Catastrophe

He didn't belong there, but he knew no demon would challenge him. He was tall, not as tall as their master but impressive in his own right.  
The man pushed himself off of the wall, walking forward slowly. The demons scrambled to get out of his way, dodging between their own prisoners to escape.  
The man(if he was one, whispered the demons) made his way through hell, through the fire and blood, to the very center, where their only true light lay.  
Eyes followed him as he opened the a small door on the side of the twisted, bright tower that was in the very center of hell. He moved patiently, but his eyes were filled with an urgency that demons (the creatures of need) couldn't understand. Where the door opened, a bright light crept through, illuminating the damned and damners for all to see. Hissing, the demons recoiled.  
Closing the door behind him, all the light that came from the doorway was extinguished, throwing hell into darkness yet again as the man entered the Cage.

Michael closed the door softly, barely remembering the demons as he slowly took in the light that was the Morningstar.  
The large room was twisted, parts spun out and in like a whirlwind of the future and past. It was beautiful. Just like his brother, glowing white and pure.  
In the middle of the room was a wide couch, holding a tall figure Michael knew like the back of his hand. His face was turned away from him, head tilted at the sky like some mocking prayer to Father.  
He wore a white suit, a complete contrast to his own black, but it seemed to make him glow even more. He matched the walls of the Cage, eyes still closed, making him appear like the angel he knew instead of the devil he chose to find.  
Michael made no noise, but the second He entered the room, his eyes snapped open like a cat's.  
"Brother," Michael whispered, eyes wide.  
If it were true, the degradation of his soul, it didn't show. Lucifer seemed to radiate the calm and serenity he always had, charm even more noticeable. His beauty was suited to evil, it seemed. Wide green eyes looked at him quickly, darting from his black clothes to his eyes back to the dark shadow of his wings against the pale walls.  
"Michael." He said, unfolding himself from the couch.  
"You're...here." He said, frowning slightly. It seemed to ruin his face, that small look of doubt. How could he be unsure?  
"I'm here because I want to be, little brother." That small look of consternation was nothing compared to the flinch at his brother's nickname for him. Old games long forgotten, apparently.  
Lucifer turned around, slowly drawing his hand down the side of the couch. "Why are you here?"  
Michael paused. "Lucifer...I miss you."  
"Well, that was sudden," Lucifer sharply intoned. "I thought I was an abomination. Unfit to view. That what we had was nothing after what I had done." He turned to Michael, beautiful anger highlighting his face, and god if he didn't just want to grab him and never let go.

"Lucifer."

He turned to him, eyes flashing again.

"No." he said adamantly. "Leave."

Michael reached out a hand and then curled it back into his pocket.

"Fine." he said.

Lucifer didn't hear what he whispered when he left. Maybe he'd never know.

"I love you, brother."


	3. The Ghost of Myself

It wasn't what it seemed. That was pretty sure. What it was was light, dark, righteousness and pain wrapped and twisted together. What came out of it was anyone's guess.  
Not many remembered the day of the Fall, the real story. Sure, the bible spoke of how God ordered Michael to cast The Son of the Morning out of heaven. Spoke of the chains he dragged him down with. The terrible fight that preceded it, brother against brother.  
But they missed the most important part of that day.  
Heaven didn't cast out an evil child, a monster or really anything wrong at all. They threw out a son.  
A brother.  
And that kind of pain doesn't just disappear behind a mask of righteousness. It crawls into everything you do. A quick turn to tell a joke reveals empty air. Waking up in an empty bed, the ghost of fingers getting dimmer every day. But the regret stays.  
On the day where the Morningstar fell from heaven, all was silent. Heads were bowed, mourning a lost brother. After that day, of course nothing was the same. But the change that the new angels spoke of these days...it reminded the older angels of a bright eyed brother lost so long ago.  
The younger ones don't remember him, his beauty. His kindness. He wasn't the devil so many set out to claim he was. He had been their light, and without it, the brightest place in the world grew dark.

And me? I...

I laughed.


	4. You Know Where You Went Wrong

"Michael." Zachariah said firmly, head bowed.  
Dean's mind whirred as it all came flooding back. The Fight, his brother's fall. The Cage. What he himself had done.  
Pain, terror, but worst of all was the loneliness. Being alone for the first time in millennia. Empty.  
All this came back to him, staring at the troublesome angel and human in front of him.  
"What do you want, Seraph?"

The angel trembled at the tone of his voice, but stood tall.  
"We wish for you to return to heaven. Where you belong."  
Dean nodded slowly. "And why would I do that?"  
"God wills it." Spoke a new voice to his left. Turning slowly, he recognized Raphael.  
"Brother." He said with a small nod.

Raphael smiled a little. "We only wish that you would return and grant us the honor of your counsel once more."  
Dean nodded again. He wasn't at full power, he could tell. His awakening had been so soon, so fast, he couldn't gather himself. Against two of his brothers, sadly he was weak. But they didn't know that. Or did they?  
Tilting his head, the dean part of him smacked himself as he realized just what Raphael held in his hands. Cuffs.  
With enochian sigils engraved on them. Powerful enough to hold even an archangel.  
He took a step back, intentionally making his eyes flicker to their electric blue power. "I don't want to fight you."  
Raphael looked like he'd come to a decision.  
"Sadly, that's not an option."  
"Fine." He muttered, bracing himself. He'd fought his brothers before. Maybe he could hold them long enough to...to what? He didn't have a plan.

He never got far enough to think of one when Raphael was suddenly next to him.  
"I am sorry." He said, then savagely whipped his hand across Dean's temple, causing him to drop to his knees. Above him, Raphael was chanting a binding rite, causing deans vision to go fuzzier and fuzzier until he blacked out completely, slumping over with one thought on his mind: betrayal once again.  
-


	5. The Survivors

Stay

Dean slammed the trunk of the impala down as he grabbed their bags, stumbling to the curb as he waited for Sam, who was at the desk buying them a room, no doubt getting a look from the receptionist. From Dean's point of view, he didn't have to wonder why. His tall frame was covered in small scratches and dirt, and he had a frankenstein thing going on with his mud streaked hair.  
While Sam was far from clean, he definitely was better off than Dean, who was bleeding from a small gash on his temple and trying to hide the front of his singed t shirt underneath his jacket. Shuffling around, he tried to get comfortable, which was never gonna happen. His ribs still throbbed. Yeah, hunting is a bitch sometimes, thinking about this last hunt. It was supposed to be easy, but as it always is with the Winchesters, something had to go wrong.  
Dean had been up to his elbows in grave dirt and a seriously pissed off ghost. Lucky for him(and unluckily for the ghost) he brought salt and a hell of a lot a gasoline.  
Sadly, that was as far as his luck went. Sam had been salting the body while Dean held the ghost back with rock salt. Sam had just gotten the canister of gasoline open when things started to go wrong. The ghost disappeared, leaving Dean alone trying to figure out where the damn thing went. Suddenly, she materialized behind Sam.  
Grabbing him by the back of his jacket, she hurled him across the graveyard they were currently battling in and disappeared. He hit a tree on the other side of the field with a crack, and fell to the ground bonelessly. Dean's heart nearly stopped in his chest. He really hated this ghost.  
Sam had done the research on this one, as always. The spirit of Amelie Jacobs was supposedly haunting the phone booth(who knew they had those anymore) where she was murdered twenty years ago after a fight with her fiancee.  
They'd set out after lunch, planning on salting her bones and getting out of town before anyone noticed they weren't really insurance adjusters.  
When they got to the gravesite, Sam dug the grave. Dean's back had been killing him all week after a close encounter with a pissed off shapeshifter.  
After the grave was dug( which takes longer than you think, just FYI) they got the salt and gasoline out.  
Amelia Jacobs chose that moment to appear, shrieking and still wearing her blood streaked dress.  
While this wasn't good, it wasn't unusual for the Winchesters. Sam tossed Dean a shotgun and got back to work.  
That's when Sam decided to be one with the trees, and he still wasn't moving.  
"Sammy!" he yelled, trying to see if he was breathing.  
From where he could see, he looked okay.  
Grabbing the canister, he dumped it over Amelia's bones before she could appear again. Lighting a match, he quickly dropped it and looked up in time to see the ghost pop up again. She screamed as her bones burned, disintegrating in a flash of light and flames that spread so wide it singed the front of Dean's shirt. He quickly patted down the shirt to make sure it hadn't caught, then looked for Sam.  
Dean rushed over to where Sam still wasn't moving.  
"Sammy?" he asked gently running his hands over his brother's body, searching for broken bones or worse. Thankfully, he found none. Now he just had to wake him up and find a way to drag his painfully large body back to the car.  
"Mhhmmph." came a groan from Sam.  
"c'mon little bro. Time to get up."  
"Dean?" he asked, eyes a little confused but thankfully not concussion blurry.  
"You okay?" he asked. Sure, it was a lame question, but he really needed to know if he could get his butt back to the car. Dean didn't think he could do it himself. The world was beginning to spin, and he touched the side of his face, finding a small cut on his temple.  
Sam sat up with a wince, but managed to climb to his feet.  
"I'm good. Did you get her?" he asked.  
"Yeah. Can you drive?"  
"Fine. Where to next?"  
"I dunno. Let's just get out of here."  
They drove for a few hours, stopping along the way to patch Dean up a little bit.  
When they had been on the road for about six hours, Dean pointed out the nearest motel.  
That brought them to now.  
The sound of keys jingling snapped Dean out of his memories, seeing Sam with their motel keys and a strange expression on his face.  
Uh oh, thought Dean.  
"Why the face?" he asked, dreading another fiasco like the Amelia Jacobs mess. They hadn't even changed out of their ruined clothes yet!  
Sam had the decency to look sheepish.  
"They said there's not gonna be any hot water all week. Something screwed with their tanks and it can't be fixed till next Tuesday."  
Dean groaned. "Why, god? Do you really hate my guts that much?" he yelled skyward.  
Sam shifted. "Let's just get inside, dude. Have your hissy fit later."  
They walked into their new room ( it wasn't) and settled in. Dean grabbed his bag and threw it on the bed. He was already hating this room.  
Dean had just opened his bag when his cell phone began ringing. Checking the caller ID, he saw it was Bobby.  
"Hey Bobby. I guess this isn't a social call?"  
Bobby's voice still seemed to grumble, even on the phone.  
"you boys near the town of -?"  
"How'd you know?" asked Dean.  
"that's where ya are? Weird coincidence. There's some irregular demonic omens coming up all over your town. It don't look good. You boys up for some investigating?"  
"Is that Bobby? Not another hunt!" groaned Sam as he flopped onto the bed, pillow over his head.  
Dean frowned at Sam but continued speaking to Bobby.  
"What kind of omens?" he asked tentatively.  
"I don't know, boy, but the demons are all flocking to specific cities right near y'all."  
"Which cities?" asked Dean.  
"Well, the last large one was in -"  
"That was the last town we hit!"  
Bobby sounded worried. "Tell me everywhere you've been in the last ten days."  
Dean scrambled to relay the information while Sam looked at him quizzically from the bed.  
When he finished telling Bobby, a frown spread across his face. Then Bobby's voice came back on the line.  
"Boys, I hate to say it, but it looks like he demonic omens are followin' YOU." said Bobby on the other line.  
"Following us?" he asked.  
Dean looked at Sam, who was currently pacing the room.  
Keeping an eye on him, he replied to Bobby.  
"alright Bobby, thanks. I'll call you soon."  
Dean got off the phone and sat down in the chair.  
"What's up with Bobby?" asked Sam.  
"Nothing. Old man's just being paranoid."  
"But he said something about demonic omens and following. What did that mean?" he asked, peering at Dean suspiciously.  
"Like I said. Paranoid. Don't worry." he said, smiling tightly.  
Sam turned away, apparently satisfied. If only he knew what Dean was going to do tonight to those demons.  
-_-

Ever since Jessica's death, Sam had felt a sort of emptiness, a distance from everything and everyone, even Dean. He became closed off from all emotion, keeping a blank smile on his face so Dean wouldn't know how much life hurt.  
However, that didn't stop him from realizing that Dean was up to something. He might be depressed, but he wasn't stupid.  
So, when Dean thought he was asleep and got out of bed, he was ready to follow him wherever he went. Whatever Bobby had told him must have really spooked him, because he was packing a lot of heat.  
Dean closed the door with a soft click, and Sam took that as his cue. Leaping out of bed, he threw on a pair of jeans and a hoodie. He quickly tied his sneakers and followed Dean out the door.

Dean was pretty sure his plan would work. Between Bobby's call and nightfall he had been watching the perimeter, surprised to see a good deal of people passing their motel room. Did people usually walk by this often? He wondered.  
Tense and unsure after Bobby's phone call, he paced the room while Sam took a nap. He was feeling a little less frantic when he had his brother right in front of him. Safe. That word brought up so many memories, none he wanted to go into.  
Shortly after that thought passed through his mind, a sharp knock startled him out of his daze.  
Cautiously walking to the door, he looked through the peep hole, seeing nobody.  
Opening the door, he braced himself for an attack. When none came, his gaze caught on a small cream envelope laying on the doorstep. Reaching a hand down, he picked it up. People didn't send anthrax to hunters, right? He had too many enemies to count, so it was hard to tell who might have sent it.  
Turning the envelope over, he saw that it was sealed with honest to god wax. Who did this anymore?  
Dean opened it suspiciously, feeling the weight of the thick cream paper as he tore it open.  
A small, gold piece of paper fell out of the envelope, along with another piece of thick paper.  
Written on the front of the paper was a note.

Dean Winchester, don't be late.

then an address and time were listed below.  
What the hell? Asked Dean. Who knew he and Sam were here in this random town somewhere in south Texas?  
Shaking his head in frustration, he tucked the note in his jacket pocket. His gaze fell on the other piece of paper that came with the envelope. Opening it, he couldn't believe his eyes. Checking the time, he grimaced. He knew what he had to do.  
-1-  
Dean was walking very quickly to wherever he was going. Sam stumbled behind him, trying to stay quiet. His brother had always seemed more graceful than him, and it was really showing now.  
Dean turned the corner up ahead and stalked into a neighborhood that looked like it had more warehouses than people. It was completely empty, which made Sam even more nervous. What was his brother up to?  
Jogging behind him for another mile, they stopped in front of a large, rusty old warehouse. Sam held his breath as Dean opened the door and walked inside. Something was wrong.

Stepping inside a warehouse most likely filled with demons was very much so a trap. But Dean knew he had to come. When he saw the other note tucked in the envelope, nothing else seemed to matter.  
That didn't mean walking into a warehouse full of demons was a good idea either, but he was taking his job as a big brother very seriously.  
Opening the door slowly, he crept into the warehouse, prepared for anything and it's brother. But what he least expected was a large white table covered in every sweet and pastry in the world. At the end of the grand table stood a middle aged man in a suit. He held a hand up in greeting.  
"Hello, Dean." the man said, eyes glowing yellow.  
"Azazel." Dean snarled. "What do you want?"  
"Manners, Dean. I came to talk about what was on the note. And maybe have a treat while we're at it. You did get my letter, correct? About Sam?" he asked, slowly walking up the side of the table towards Dean, a curious look o his face, almost like he was looking for something.  
"This has nothing to do with Sam. Leave him out of this!"  
the hunter growled, taking a step forward.  
"On the contrary, Dean. He has EVERYTHING to do with this." Azazel said, turning to face a set of boxes.  
"Don't you, Sammy?" he called out, satisfaction plain on his face.  
Dean turned as he saw Sam climbing out of the pile of boxes with the "help" of two demons that suddenly appeared.  
"Sammy?" he whispered.  
Silence, then Sam grinned weakly.

"Hey Dean."

Sam knew that whatever Dean was up to was bad, but he'd never guess what his brother was doing with the DEMON of all things.  
He had crept around the side of the warehouse, finding a small door on the side. Creeping through, he heard voices. Hiding behind a couple of boxes, he began to put the puzzle pieces together as he heard Dean speak.  
"Azazel." said his brother.  
Azazel? What was Dean doing with Azazel? Sam thought. This was the demon who killed their mother! Killed Jessica! What was Dean doing meeting it in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of the night? Reeling, he turned back to the conversation going on just a few feet from his hiding couldn't hear what Azazel said, but saw his vessel's lips move insidiously.  
"Sam has nothing to do with this. Leave him out of this!" came his brother's angry voice. Sam knew him well enough to know he wasn't just angry, but scared. The last time Dean had used that voice, it was when Dad nearly died, being possessed by Azazel.  
Azazel was stalking forward slowly, fingers trailing on the table as he gazed around the room curiously.  
"On the contrary, Dean. He has EVERYTHING to do with this." he turned straight towards Sam, looking like he just figured something perplexing out. "Don't you, Sammy?" he called.  
Sam froze, suddenly feeling cold hands on his arms. With a yelp, he was dragged out of his hiding spot towards his brother.  
"Sammy?"  
Sam managed a tense smile. "Hey, Dean," he said, trying not to look like he just got caught snooping on his own brothers deal.

"Sammy." the demon laughed. "What a pleasure! Now, I didn't think you'd come here on your own. But, I won't look a gift horse in the mouth. Saves me a trip later, anyhow. Now, I bet you're wondering why you're here?" he said, turning towards Dean. "Can you guess, big bro?"  
Sam saw something flash in Dean's eyes. What did he know? He asked himself again. What was going on?

Dean was trying to keep his emotions under control. But Sam showing up seriously messed with his cool. What was the idiot kid thinking? When Azazel told him what he was here for, the kid would implode. He isn't the type of kid to take news like demon blood lightly.  
Contrary to his emotions, he stood tall and looked Azazel straight in the eyes.  
"You won't take Sam. I refuse to let him be part of any plan of yours."  
Azazel tilted his head. "I think we're leaving someone out of this conversation, Dean. I'm not taking Sam by force. He'll come with me out of his own free will."  
Sam's face turned to a look of shock.  
"What? I would never go with you!" he nearly shouted, beginning to struggle with the demons still holding his arms.  
Azazel smiled. "I was thinking some persuasion was needed. Keep him still." he instructed the demons holding Sam. Then, pointing a finger at Dean, he began to curl his hand into a fist.  
Dean screamed, dropping to his knees as he felt his guts coil inside of him. The splitting pain coursing through his body was the worst he'd ever experienced, making his vision go red.  
Sam was shouting, sounding dim in his ears.  
"No! Stop it! Dean!"  
Dean managed to choke out a few words.  
"Don't go with im Sammy-" he choked out before Azazel twisted his hand up savagely, causing another level of pain to assail his senses.  
"Dean!" Sam cried again as he screamed.  
Azazel let Dean go, turning and looking at Sam.  
"How about now? I won't lay a finger on Dean after this. All you have to do is come with me."  
"Why do you want me in the first place? Dean's worth more than me!" Sam said.  
Azazel tsked. "I want you because you're one of my special children. I visited you when you were a baby, and, let me say, you've grown into quite the fine specimen."  
"What?" asked Sam, looking at Azazel.  
"Special children?" he questioned.  
"Psychics. You babies got a taste of something very few will ever even know about. Dean knows what it is, don't you, Dean?"  
Dean coughed, raising himself to his knees.  
"Demon blood" he croaked, hating the look on Sam's face.  
Sam's face took on another level of shock, if that was possible.  
"I have demon blood in me?" he cried.  
"I needed someone to lead my army, someone strong. And you were perfect. What can I say?" he smirked.  
"I have a feeling you'll come with me now."  
"Sammy, don't listen to him!" Dean cried, looking at Sam desperately.  
Dean opened his mouth again, but right before he could speak, Azazel grabbed hold of his guts again, wrenching another shattering scream out of him as he fell to the ground in pain.  
"Now Sam..." said Azazel, still torturing Dean.  
"Never," said Sam. "Whatever you want, I won't do it. Let my brother go!" he shouted.  
Azazel seemed to think about it. " No." he said, smirking that god awful smirk of his.  
Dean had tears running down his face, but he wasn't giving in. You keep telling him no, he thought to Sam. He'd give anything for the pain to stop, but not Sam.  
His brother's face was twisted in pain, watching his brother scream. Sam's eyes looked anguished. He was close to breaking, even Dean could see that.  
Sam suddenly jerked, his eyes going glassy. He tilted his head, almost like he was listening to someone. Or something...  
Azazel frowned, stepping closer to the boy, letting Dean go like a forgotten toy.  
"Sam?" he asked, waving a hand in front of his face. Nothing seemed to be working. Sam had suddenly just stopped moving.  
Dean was really getting worried now. Where was Sam?  
Lala land?  
Sam started visibly trembling, dropping to his knees as his eyes began to glow white.  
Azazel looked shocked, actually backing up away from Sam.  
Dean was still confused, and became even more worried when a wave of power seemed to ROLL off of Sam, vaporizing the demons standing near him. Azazel was thrown off his feet, hitting the far wall of the warehouse with a thud.  
Sam, still trembling, grabbed his head as the light that was pouring out of him seemed to grow impossibly brighter. Light shone out of his him even when he closed his eyes, glowing through his eyelids.  
Dean could barely see,climbing to his feet, trying to get to Sam.  
A buzzing seemed to shake the whole warehouse, shattering all the windows and making Dean's teeth vibrate.  
He tried to take a step forward, but the supernova that was surrounding Sam threw him back. A heart wrenching sound reached Dean from inside the glowing mass.  
Was that Sam? A scream rang out again, so painful and beautiful that Dean wanted to do nothing but stop it. A shadow spun inside the sun, and with a crack everything went white, and Dean knew no more.

Sam knew that Azazel was interested in their family, but he never knew it was because of this.  
Watching Dean being tortured was the most painful thing Sam had ever experienced.  
The screams that rang out pushed something inside him. Looking Azazel in the eyes, he felt a reflection of sorts. A hum buzzed in his ears, making him cock his head. Everything seemed to grow distant, so distant that light seemed to be coming from everywhere, pushing out, and connecting with something. He felt two presences, but he didn't/couldn't give them a name.  
Sam felt something wrap around him. He remembered, oh god he remembered.  
What a lie his life had been.  
Falling to his knees, the buzzing grew louder as Sam screamed and screamed.

Dean woke slowly, trying to focus around the massive headache that was hammering inside his head.  
Looking around, he saw Azazel laying against the far wall, apparently still unconscious. Wait, still? What happened? Dean couldn't remember.  
Stumbling to his feet, he looked for Sam. Sam. Something had happened with Sam. What?  
There. In the middle of the warehouse lay his brother, peaceful as a sleeping angel. Shattered glass surrounded his form, giving off an odd image of beauty and pain.  
Dean slowly walked over to where Sam lay, intent on waking his brother. So intent he didn't notice Azazel walking up behind him, poised to kill.  
What he did see was Sam's eyes shoot open, still glowing that ethereal white, standing up and reaching behind Dean.  
He turned in time to see Azazel get thrown (again) by his brother into the wall.  
Azazel got up slowly, staring at Sam with fear filled eyes.  
"Azazel," said Sam slowly, eyes focused and brilliant.  
"Master?" whispered the demon, cowed.  
Sam didn't answer, but reached out a hand. Azazel began to scream, vessel trembling.  
"You dared to hurt me? I was willing to let the special children project go, but this has gone far enough."  
Azazel bowed low, looking desperately at Sam's shoes.  
"Please," he whispered. "I was only following your orders."  
"My orders had nothing to do with this. Now that I remember, they never will again."  
Dean was scared. What was possessing his brother? A demon with higher rank? Those rich, but cold tones coming from his brother's mouth sent one feeling coursing through Dean.  
Fear.  
Azazel, still stooped low, began trembling even worse as Not-Sam raised a hand and gazed at Azazel coldly.  
"Your services are no longer required. In fact, I'm going to send you to a place in hell so bad you'll wish you went to the anal rape section."  
Dean really didnt know what was going on? Anal rape? What the hell?  
Azazel began to glow, eyes bulging out as an unseen force seemed to grip him and TWIST.  
Azazel's vessel fell to the floor, empty. Sam spun on his heel to face Dean. His eyes flashed from righteous anger to puppy love in a second flat.  
"Dean." he said, staring at him in an almost scared manner.  
Dean took a step back, terrified and angry.  
"Who are you and what have you done to my brother?"

Sam knew. Sam knew too much, in all honesty.  
But he was trying to keep himself contained. Azazel had pushed his limits by even touching his brother, and he was famously unforgiving.  
He knew why, but oh, god, he couldn't put it to words.  
Staring at his brother and hearing those words was the most painful thing he'd ever experienced. Not even his Fall had hurt this much. He had betrayed many brothers then, but this one betrayal seemed to hurt more than all of them combined.  
Dean was still standing how ground, hands trembling finely but gaze still accusing.  
Sam felt a deep pain well up in him, and grabbing his head,  
He choked out a name and fell as everything went white.

Dean was still waiting for an answer, looking up into Sam's eyes(Sam's?) and hated what he saw there. Whatever demon had taken over his brother was going to pay for the pain he could see in Sam's eyes.  
Sam went white as soon as Dean could spit out his sentence, and he didn't look like he was going to answer anytime soon.  
Suddenly, Sam lurched forward, hands going to his head as his eyes began to glow.  
"Dean." the name was torn from of Sam's lips as he clenched with a soundless scream.  
Going limp, his brother began to drop to the floor. Rushing forward, Dean barely caught him in time.  
No way could this be a demon, thought Dean. But the big question came to him as he cradled his brother's head in a ruined warehouse. What was going on?

Dean carried Sam's large form out of the warehouse, but there was no way in hell he was gonna be able to take it all the way back to the motel room. Looking at the sky, he could tell it was almost dawn. Leaning Sam against the side of the fence surrounding the warehouse, he sat and waited.  
Dean had always been in tune with Sam. Even sleep rhythms were something he had memorized about the kid. What didn't he know about him?  
So, when Sam started mumbling and tossing restlessly, Dean gathered him in his arms, wishing it were as simple as a nightmare.  
Sam's trembling grew in strength, until Dean had to actually hold him down to make sure he didn't hurt himself.  
Glancing down at Sam's face, he could SEE the light flickering behind the boy's eyelids.  
A scream was torn from Sam's throat as he opened his eyes.  
"No! Noooooooooo!"  
A crack echoed in Dean's ears, making him flinch.  
Sam's back arched of the ground as he struggled with this unseen force. He kept screaming, a terrible sound just like earlier.  
Finally, he went limp, eyes opening blearily at Dean.  
"Sam?" asked Dean worriedly.  
Sam's eyes were oddly blank.  
"Help me up." he said, trying to sit up.  
Dean helped him shift into a sitting position, curious how he could go from screaming to calm so quickly.  
Sam leant against the fence, eyes closed, but somehow still pensive.  
When he spoke, it shocked Dean.  
"I suppose you have questions?"  
Dean gaped, not understanding how this was his brother. He took out a flask of holy water, cursing himself for not trying this earlier.  
Pouring it on Sam's arm, he was transfixed as the skin where the water had been poured glowed softly.  
Sam looked from his arm up to Dean with world weary eyes.  
"I have a name here, on your earth. It has something to do with the morning star." he paused, looking at the soft touches of dawn glowing at he corners of the sky.  
"Can you see it?" he asked.  
The morning star? What? Dean thought, trying to put it together. He wasn't getting it.  
"Who are you?" he asked.  
"Who do you think I am?"  
"You're not Sam. And you were powerful enough to kill Azazel. But..." he trailed off.  
"That makes you freaky powerful."  
Sam nodded, slowly.  
Dean continued. "What's more powerful than one of the most dangerous demons alive?"  
"The one who made them." Sam said, gazing into Dean's eyes with complete, shocking clarity.  
"The one who made them..? What? You mean, you're..." he couldn't say it.  
Sam looked pained. "I want to hear you say it.".  
Dean looked at his little brother, the kid he'd patched up so many times, the kid he'd held and cried with, been all over the country with. The one person he would trust with his life.  
"Lucifer." he whispered.  
Sam closed his eyes when he heard the name, leaning his head back. His face was a painting of shame and regret, making Dean's heart crack.  
He opened his eyes again, showing Dean his tear filled orbs.  
Lucifer smiled slowly, sadly.  
"I know you needed to know. I'm sorry. I'll leave."  
He said, getting up weakly.  
Dean was frozen, still kneeling next to the spot Sam(Lucifer, he reminded himself) had been laying.  
Lucifer seemed to look back, eyes sad and tortured beyond all pain. He seemed to be waiting for Dean to say something. To call him back.  
He didn't.  
When he was almost gone, Dean finally spoke.  
"Lucifer." he said quietly.  
Sam's body turned, looking at Dean for something. Anything.  
"Stay."

Fin?


	6. Memory Of The Future

"You know you can't do this," Gabriel said sharply.

"He's our brother! Your son!"

God looked away at the expression on Gabriel's face. "I have to."

How he hated to see pain on his youngest's normally joyful face.

"Sure, he made a few mistakes, but Hell? That's not the solution!"

God paused, turning around. "Are you questioning my judgement?"

Gabriel flushed, angelic grace recoiling. "No."

He seemed to stand taller. "But he's my brother! And I'm not going to leave him there!"

God sighed. "You've got the strangest future in front of you, Gabriel."

"So you keep telling me! But all I see is the fighting! The punishment! When will it stop?"

God sighed. "I don't know."

"You know everything that's going to happen, don't lie!"

"And you've overstepped your boundaries. Go to your brothers and sisters, Gabriel. Leave my judgement alone."  
Gabriel, with a look of righteous anger on his face, walked out of the room, wings trailing like flames behind him.

God watched him go with a feeling of loss.

He'd thrown one brother out of heaven, but he'd lost another one on the way.

He hoped it was worth it.


End file.
